


Honey and Vinegar

by DreamyPen



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Langst, M/M, Male Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Mistaken Identity, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Poor Keith, due to mistaken identity, klangst?, noncon, or should it be kangst, poor lance, why not both
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 11:44:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13857108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamyPen/pseuds/DreamyPen
Summary: “Hey—I know Blue was hurt and the soldiers got away, but—all things considered, you did fine, today. And Blue will be okay. So. Don’t stress about it.” As he muttered, the Red Paladin stared fixedly at the ground. Vandr peered closer, delighted, disbelieving—but, yes, that was blood pooling under the thin skin of the human’s delicate cheeks. Keith Kogane was blushing, a common biological reaction exhibited by many mammalian species when embarrassed, aroused, angry, or, sometimes, in Vandr’s experience, all three.Suddenly everything questionable Vandr had noticed in his observations turned neatly on its head and clicked into place: it all made perfect sense now.The Red Paladin and the Blue Paladin werelovers.The Galra hire a shapeshifter to take the place of the Blue Paladin and infiltrate the Castle of Lions. He comes to the wrong conclusions.





	Honey and Vinegar

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't sit on my hands for this headcanon any longer.  
> Trigger warnings now: Upcoming noncon due to mistaken identity (TL:DR—Keith thinks it's Lance, it ain't Lance).
> 
> (All my East Coast US-peeps, this blizzard sucks, but at least it's conducive to writing.)

 

Many of the colonies included in the Galactic Empire—those planets not of native Galra biological descent—absolutely loathed their rulers. Vandr’s own planet, Isiteral, would easily be included in that list. Forced labor, strict laws, and the total ransacking of native economies—of _course_ the Empire had their dissenters. Dissent that was often met with brutal force and stamped out.

You didn’t run an Empire for 10,000 years, after all, without breaking a few _Gelvist_ eggs here and there.

But if Vandr was prone to any kind of loyalty, he would be skulking around on Isiteral, joining the subterfuge so natural to his species in the desperate fight for freedom. A vain fight, of course. Vandr had personally seen the size and preparedness of the Galra fleet. These small-scale, homespun rebellions could spend the rest of their natural lives fighting for their cause and barely warrant a single flagged message to the Empire’s first-level officers.

Luckily for Vandr’s credit accounts, he was less interested in justice than he was in profit.

As if Isiteral was a shining beacon of righteousness, anyway. Vandr snorted and took another nibble of his _Oco_ stick. You’d think a species of shapeshifters would have realized by now how much economic gain they could achieve if they just ditched the council’s Code of Ethical Shifting. No, Vandr wasn’t interested in those stuffy councilmembers and their self-righteous governing.

What he _was_ interested in, was the 5 million GAC job offer.

Vandr smiled and skimmed through the transmission once more. He’d worked for the Galra before—had been downright responsible for the collapse of various economies and governments at their behest (and pay), even—but never had a job offered a reward so high. And ¼ of it upfront, no less!

It didn’t even seem that difficult. Sure, he’d be infiltrating the heart of the “Coalition” of resistance against the Galra Empire—that team of do-gooder yuppies and the last two surviving Alteans, if the general information on the grapevine was correct. And sure, Voltron was downright terrifying in action—Vandr had seen those illegally-circulated holovids of the massive robotic figure soaring through space and decimating Galra squadrons like a _bolkian_ swatting at a cloud of buzzing _engnats_ _._ No, that kind of god-tier conflict was best saved for the commanders of Zarkon’s fleet. These kinds of unglamorous, cloak-and-dagger missions were better-suited for Vandr’s... _talents._

He’d known what his decision would be the moment he received the job offer, but it had been nice to toy around lazily, knowing by the staggering price how desperate the Galra were to get a speedy confirmation _._ A harmless bit of payback, really, for all the suffering of his people on Isiteral.

Hm. Maybe he was at least somewhat patriotic, after all?

* * *

 Four movements, two meetings with the Galra’s head of intelligence, and 1,250,000 GAC later, Vandr found himself standing aboard an Empire First-class battle dropship, surveying the massive forest beneath him with vague interest.

“Are you prepared?”

Vandr closed his eyes in annoyance. Mercies _above,_ but this Lieutenant was irritating. You pity-mate with someone just _once,_ and suddenly they think you’re best buddies. It was so _presumptuous._

“Seeing how I’ve been preparing for the past four movements, and already reviewed my mission details with your superiors _thrice_ now, I’d say yes, Lieutenant Ty Va, I am _prepared."_

After a moment, the Galra grunted and looked away pointedly. “Just be ready to drop soon—Gammet Squad says they’re leading the Blue Paladin this direction now.” His tone was curt. Perhaps he’d thought he was entitled to Vandr’s respect after a night in his bed.

A pretty disappointing night, in retrospect. And for all that the propaganda liked to extol about _endurance_ and _power_ _,_ ha!

“Acknowledged,” Vandr said. He flexed his fingers, skin tingling. His pack had been dropped at his feet, and he hefted it now. It was a small, compact thing—containing an illegal blaster make, a couple tranquilizer-tipped darts and blades, a recorder, and a transmission/tracker chip that would be used to hack into the Altean’s ship mainframe. He flipped a switch on the pack’s side and the whole thing shuddered and shrank to the size of his palm. Galra tech, of course. Some of the most expensive and over-regulated stuff in the galaxies, but always worth the investment.

The radio at the front of the small dropship buzzed. “Alphaz squad, this is Gammet squad. ETA sixty ticks. Blue Paladin is hot on our tail.” The whine of blasterfire could be heard distantly in the background, followed by a muffled curse barely picked up by the radio. Vandr smirked.

“Acknowledged. Engaging camouflage now,” Lt. Ty Va responded. The ship hummed coolly and vibrated once. Vandr leaned out of the sidedoor in order to watch the reflector panels enage. Now, it appeared that he was standing in midair from the outside. Fascinating.

“Dropping the ship now,” Lt. Ty Va said to him.

Vandr smiled. “No need. We wouldn’t want you to _overexert_ yourself.” The double-meaning was unmistakable. Then, holding his minimized gear in one hand, he leaned forward and tipped into a freefall. Shifting, as always, felt like an intense itch across his skin and in his being, but it was short, and after a tick Vandr folded his Excellian wings and cut through the distance like a knife.

When the forest canopy was only twenty _aks_ away, he flared his wings, nearly bringing his descent to an abrupt standstill. The wind ruffled pleasurably through his pinions. A leisurely circle ate up the rest of the distance and Vandr alighted on a low tree branch and closed his wings. A useful form, this one. Flying was always enjoyable.

A distant cacophony of yells and blasterfire reached his ears, which were sharper in this form, more sensitive to vibration. He bobbed his head eagerly and waited.

Less than ten ticks later, the small squad of soldiers burst through the fringes of the clearing. Though they had been running full-tilt up until now, they suddenly came to a unanimous halt and switched directions. Vandr observed as the feigned looks of panic on their faces transformed into serious concentration. In one synchronized motion, they dropped to standard shooting position and brought up their blasters.

Their target clambered into the clearing after them only a moment later.

“You’re all gonna regret firing on Blue—” snarled Lance McClain, human of Earth, and skidded to a confused halt when he found himself surrounded by a semicircle of blaster ends.

At least his reflexes were sharp. Before any of the squad could fire, the boy had already deployed his arm-shield, clearly expecting a barrage.

Instead, Vandr dropped down noiselessly behind his defenses, shapeshifting as he did so. When he straightened, he was a naked mirror-image of the young Earthling. He tapped Lance’s shoulder gently, readying a tranq needle in the hand held behind his back.

McClain turned around as much as he could without skewing the angle of his armshield. His wild eyes connected with Vandr’s. Such an exotic shade of dark blue, nearly Altean. They made a very stunning contrast against brown skin and hair.

“What the hell?” the boy stated in shock. Those pretty eyes flicked down and up, taking in Vandr’s perfect mimicry—they were now truly identical, down to the perfect placement of every last pore on his tan skin.

“What’s cooking, good lookin’?” Vandr teased, and while the boy was still in shock, he brought his hand forward and guided the tiny needle up into the underside of the jaw exposed by the armor. The tranquilizer coating the tip was a special concoction of his. McClain had no time to scream or shout. In less than a tick, the boy’s eyes rolled back into his skull and he collapsed bonelessly into the loamy matter at their feet.

Vandr rolled the limp figure over with a gentle nudge of his foot. “Well, that was easy.” His voice was higher now, smooth with youth. Chattering aloud to ensure he got the intonations right had become a habit of his in the past movements. Which was fine, seeing as this paladin was considered the talkative one of the group anyway.

The soldiers all relaxed, standing up and flicking their weapons to safety. Vandr looked up and smiled, gesturing at the still figure by his feet. “Well, he’s all yours, gentlemen!”

One of the Galra soldiers had been staring at Vandr’s newly naked form, but his eyes snapped up guiltily when he spoke—Vandr wondered, with amusement, if the poor dear was blushing under all that fur. Hard to tell, sometimes. He cocked his hip and smiled sultrily, wearing McClain’s nakedness like an expensive fur cloak. Of course he’d heard the rumors. He’d been researching his target every tick of every cycle for the past four movements. Naturally, he’d stumbled across the crass talk of the lower soldier classes: _Wasn’t it incredible, how Altean these Terrans appeared? Why, if not for their lack of markings, and their ears, they could easily be mistaken for one another! I tell you, the things I would do if I got my claws on the black/blue/yellow/red one..._

Two of the Galra set to work stripping the unconscious paladin of his armor as Vandr watched, silently daring the soldiers to ask him to materialize some coverings. But no one said anything, so he enjoyed their covert eyes on him all the while.

At last, Lance had been stripped down to his form-fitting undersuit. Vandr analyzed it critically for a few moments before allowing the same exact mimicry of clothing to spread over his own skin. He held his hands out for the pieces of armor. His cells were capable of imitating organic and inorganic clothing flawlessly, but a paladin’s armor was the real deal, and he would need it for his disguise.

One of the more composed soldiers passed them over and he dressed himself briskly, though he couldn’t resist dragging his fingertips over whatever expanse of smooth, tan skin he found, shivering at the sensations. Terrans were such _tactile_ creatures. Already, he could see himself donning this body at some of the galaxy’s seedier clubs and having a _very_ pleasurable night some time in the future. This job was just getting better and better by the tick.

“Well, if that’s all, I think we’re settled for now,” he spoke airily, securing his shrunken pack in the forearm armor's storage slot. “Your superiors will be receiving my first transmission in 12 vargas.”

One of the soldiers hoisted up the lax teen at their feet. A short curtain of glossy brown hair concealed the paladin’s face as he dangled listlessly over the galra’s shoulder. Vandr spared a moment to wonder over his fate. Would they execute him in secret? Or was he destined for the tender mercies of the druids? Most likely the latter, and then the first after they’d wrung him of everything they could use.

Or maybe he’d end up as a _catamikka_ _._ Once this job was finished, Vandr would have enough money to purchase him, if he so chose.

It was an unexpectedly arresting thought. He shelved it for later consideration.

With the most potentially-volatile part of the mission behind them, the Galra squad began preparing for pickup. Vandr’s work here was finished. Now, it was time for the next phase of the job, which depended solely on his acting abilities and research. One of the soldiers handed Vandr the fake bayard devised by their druid witches. Beautiful piece of forgery, really. Vandr's typical partners couldn't have created a better fake. It fired like the bayard, sounded like the bayard, even dematerialized like the bayard (but really, it was just minimalizing, same as his pack, to a very small speck that clung to his hand until called again).

He waved brightly, cockily brandishing the fake weapon over his shoulder the way he’d seen the blue paladin do countless times in holovids. “Catch ya later!” With a wink to the soldier who’d blushed earlier, he spun on his heel and began the journey on foot to the center of the skirmish.

* * *

 It was almost laughably easy to rejoin the rest of team Voltron, unsuspected.

By now, they’d fought off the rest of the Galra squadrons in their separate lions. Vandr’s employers had been very careful to create a threat that merited the Lions, but not necessarily _Voltron._ After all, their plan would have been useless if they couldn’t quietly lure the Blue Paladin away into their clutches.

The Yellow Paladin—Hunk—turned as Vandr slouched up to him. A touch of concern softened his features. “Hey, Lance! Did you catch up with them?”

Vandr rubbed the back of his neck bashfully, eyes downcast. “No, they were too fast.”

Hunk rested a warm hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay buddy, I’m sure you were close.”

Vandr grinned weakly and held up a hand, two fingers barely apart. _“This_ close.”

The Black Paladin—Takashi Shirogane, referred to as “Shiro”—dematerialized his mouthpiece and removed his sweaty helmet, sighing in relief. Vandr eyed him as subtly as possible. Shiro was a rather handsome example of a bipedal mammal. If only the Blue Paladin and the Black were in a relationship, this job could have been even more… _exciting_.

Shiro smiled kindly at Vandr as he scrubbed a hand through his white-streaked hair. “It’s all right Lance, they were just stragglers anyway. You did great today in battle.”

Vandr cocked his hip and smirked. “What, do I ever _not?”_

“And, good feelings gone,” the small Green Paladin snorted, rolling his eyes. Vandr had noticed a brotherly type of relationship between the Green and Blue Paladins during his reconnaissance, so he leaned over and scruffed up his hair affectionately, laughing at the resultant _“Hey!”_

“Well, I for one am ready to head back to the castle. I’m a little afraid I left the oven on—because it’s really difficult to bake properly when, like, everything is in Altean—and you guys do _not_ want to miss out on what I’ve been experimenting on for dinner,” said Hunk, already moving to board his lion again.

“Agreed. Everyone back to their lions.” Shiro put his helmet back on and activated the comm link. “Coran, we’re heading back. Mission was a success, but Blue took heavy damage and is currently inactive.”

Then he turned and said, “Lance, you’ll ride back to the castle with me. Hunk, have Yellow carry Blue back.” He paused, then added, “Keith, are you ready to go?”

Ah, Keith. A gloomy, nonetheless beautiful human boy, with thick, almost fluffy black hair and sharp blue-gray eyes. Rival to the Blue Paladin, though it had seemed like more of a one-sided belief on McClain’s part.

Funnily enough, Keith had been staring at him, but when Shiro spoke, he turned away. “Yeah, just thinking about some stuff.”

“Well don’t think too hard, you might hurt yourself,” Vandr taunted as he moved to follow the rest of the paladins. Keith rolled his eyes and shot out his hand with unexpected quickness—Vandr tensed for an attack—but instead, Keith’s hand insinuated itself lightly in the crook of Lance’s elbow. Vandr said nothing as the boy leaned in, turning his upper body to shield his face from the rest of the retreating paladins.

“Hey—I know Blue was hurt and the soldiers got away, but—all things considered, you did fine, today. And Blue will be okay. So. Don’t stress about it.” As he muttered, the Red Paladin stared fixedly at the ground. Vandr peered closer, delighted, disbelieving—but, yes, that was blood pooling under the thin skin of the human’s delicate cheeks. Keith was _blushing_ _,_ a common biological reaction exhibited by many mammalian species when embarrassed, aroused, angry, or, sometimes, in Vandr’s experience, all three.

Suddenly everything questionable Vandr had noticed in his observations turned neatly on its head and clicked into place: it all made perfect sense now.

The Red Paladin and the Blue Paladin were _lovers_ _._ All the quick, discreet looks exchanged between the two when no one was looking, the way their eyes commonly sought out the other during battle… the way they would hang back to talk quietly together with bowed heads after finishing a fight…

Of course, why hadn’t Vandr seen it before? It was so _obvious_ in hindsight. He’d thought it to be simple friendship, albeit after all the competitive rough-housing elements had been ground away by stress and battle, but it was so obviously _more_ _._ How had none of the Galra’s intelligence agents come to the same conclusion?

Quickly checking to make sure the other paladins were still paying them no attention, he reached out and squeezed one of Keith’s hands lightly. Their gloves were dry, but warm. Vandr tangled their fingers together once.

Keith went curiously red and stared in disbelief at their joined hands. Ah, so the relationship was either extremely new or being taken very slowly. Perhaps they had not held hands yet; most likely, they had not even made the announcement public to the rest of the team. Vandr broke the contact and, with one last shy smile, slid by. His hand felt like it blazed with warmth from the simple touch.

A handsome sum of GAC and a lover to toy with; Vandr was starting to wonder why he’d ever considered turning down the assignment.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I plan on updating "The End" soon, but had to get the prologue to this fic out. I just couldn't wait anymore.
> 
> Come visit me on Tumblr [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/caffeinatedandfrustrated)
> 
> Leave a comment, please! If you're ever written anything, you know how encouraging it is to receive acknowledgement for something you've worked hard on.


End file.
